


Becoming

by corgasbord



Category: Fate/Zero
Genre: Fluff, Gen, No Spoilers, at least on rider's end, it's not explicitly stated but trans waver is implied, kinda. it's a conversation about masculinity, tagged gen bc it's not really romantic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-07-17 12:17:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16095506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corgasbord/pseuds/corgasbord
Summary: Waver wonders what it means to be a real man and wishes he didn't have to care.





	Becoming

**Author's Note:**

> i got thrown from work right back into school so life's been kinda tough, but i've been getting into fate as of late (i just finished fate/zero and i adore waver) and got a burst of inspiration last night and so... this came out. i kind of wanted to explore rider's thoughts on masculinity (a construct that i tried to portray in as healthy a way as i thought would be in-character, though it's still pretty old-fashioned) and how an insecure guy like waver might view them.
> 
> honestly i wasn't even going to post this but a couple friends encouraged me, so here it is! my first world history: waifu edition fanfic.

It’s difficult at first for Waver to come to terms with his respect for Rider.

His pride is one part of it, certainly. It’s a blow to his glass ego to realize that despite everything that annoys him about his Servant - his arrogance, his foolishness, and a stubbornness greater than any bull he’s ever seen, even the ones that pull Rider’s chariot - there is plenty to admire about him. However, this realization gives way to another, a truth that is uncomfortably humbling.

For every reason there is to admire Rider, that’s another reason to envy him.

Rider is courageous. Rider is compassionate. Rider is strong in both body and mind. Rider has determination and experience and everything that Waver doesn’t. Sometimes Waver wonders if these are traits he’s developed as a king, and he’s only so incredible because he’s already a cut above the rest. Other times Waver is sure that the problem lies with himself, and he could taste a fraction of that greatness if only he weren’t so pathetic.

It’s his body that makes him burn the most, though. Rider is an impossibly large man, sculpted well enough to put any marble statue from his era to shame. Observing the way his muscles move stirs something in Waver that he can’t place. If he had to think of a word for it, it would be something akin to _want_ \- not the sort that comes with attraction (at least, not that he’ll ever admit to himself) but the sort that can only be described as covetous. Waver wishes he could exude that kind of masculinity. He already draws enough odd looks and invasive questions about his bloodline, about his family life, about his aptitude as a mage. The unquestionable aura of a man would give others one less reason to pry.

Today is one of those days where he’d been reminded how spineless he is in every sense of the word when Rider slapped his back and, when he crumpled at the impact, commented that he’d never met a man so unable to handle a friendly gesture.

It was an innocuous enough remark, not meant to scorn. Rider is too kind to mock Waver even for his failures. Waver had given him no way of knowing that it stung as much as the space between his shoulder blades did, either, and had instead flailed theatrically and demanded that Rider stop making fun of him. Still, although the tingles had dispersed from the skin of his back, the ache between his ribs had remained with him into the evening.

He’s perched on his bed now, face-first in a book in a vain attempt to read. He’s not absorbing any of it, which he tells himself is less because of the thoughts eating at him and more because of the gunfire and explosions blaring from the TV.

More and more creases form between his eyebrows the longer this fruitless endeavor continues. Finally, he snaps the book shut with a curt _thump_. “Oi, Rider.”

“Eh?” Rider turns his head to peer over at Waver. There’s a rice cracker halfway between his jaws, which he promptly pushes the rest of the way in with a series of obnoxious crunches. “Oh, is it too loud for you again?”

“No- I mean, well. Yes. That’s one thing,” Waver says. He straightens his shoulders, stance as composed as he can manage. “I wanted to ask you about something else, though.”

“Oh?” Rider pauses his fiddling with the buttons on the remote. “What is it, boy?”

Waver swallows the surge of self-consciousness that Rider’s sharp red eyes draw forth. This is a stupid question and he’ll look stupid for asking it. He feels stupid even thinking it. It’s stupider still that he’s the sort of person who can’t know the answer in the first place.

“I was wondering…” His eyes dart away. It’s hard to concentrate when Rider is staring at him. Shaping words that don’t come out garbled requires too much of his focus already. “I wanted to know what you think it means to be a man.”

Rider is too quiet for a couple seconds too many. Waver risks a glance over at him to see his eyebrows arching in an expression that Waver can’t read.

His cheeks burn. “Actually, just forget it-”

Rider interrupts him with a boisterous laugh that only makes his face hotter. “What reason do you have to ask me something like that, boy?”

“Don’t-” Waver’s lower lip wobbles, and he bites down on it with a short curse. “Don’t make fun of me. Stop laughing at me!”

Rider does stop, though his grin still shows off all of his teeth. “I’m not making fun of you. I was just surprised that you would ask such a question when you normally prefer to seek answers anywhere but me.”

“Well, I can’t find your opinions in a book. Not reliably, at least,” Waver huffs. “And I just, ah, wanted some cultural perspective as a student. Yeah, that’s it. It’s intellectual curiosity.”

That’s the only way he can justify it. Curiosity makes it seem less like he cares when he knows that he shouldn’t build his self-worth upon antiquated notions of masculinity anyway. It doesn’t give away how that very masculinity, which Rider displays so effortlessly, makes his stomach turn over with jealousy. Curiosity is less humiliating than the real reason he asked. The real reason is the only thing he can think of that may truly earn Rider’s scorn.

“Curiosity, eh?” Rider chuckles. “Well, if you insist, I’ll give you an answer. Manhood is built upon the foundation of your honor. It’s pride in noble ideals and the courage to stand up for them to the very end. Fighting for what you believe in for as long as your heart beats - that is what makes a true man.”

It’s about as traditional a response as Waver expected. “And what does that make people who aren’t true men?” he asks, more biting than earnest this time.

“Children, of course. People who haven’t grown up yet,” Rider says matter-of-factly.

Waver stares at his lap. He’d thought for a moment that Rider might say “women.” He doesn’t know whether it’s worse to be called a woman or a child, as someone who’s been called both for years.

“So that’s why you call me ‘boy’,” Waver reasons, almost to himself. On the one hand, it’s rare affirmation. On the other, it’s demeaning.

“In part, I suppose,” Rider says, then pauses. “Does that bother you?”

“Of course it does!” Waver snaps, “I’m not a child!”

Rider scratches his chin musingly. “Perhaps not in age. But in temperament, fortitude, even stature… you’re still immature. There’s a long path ahead of you yet, boy.”

Waver flinches as though Rider had just delivered a blunt flick to his forehead. “I didn’t ask for you to patronize me.”

Rider shrugs. “You asked for my opinion, so I gave it.”

“And I just remembered why I never do that,” Waver grumbles and snatches his book back up from the sheets.

“Come now, there’s no need to be so sore about it. There aren’t many people your age whom I would call real men, anyways,” Rider says.

“And there are people my age who don’t think I’m a man, either.” The words fall bitter from his mouth before he can think about it. “I guess I expected you of all people to have high standards, but to some I don’t even fit the lowest ones possible.”

Rider’s head cocks, puzzlement written all over his face. “What do you mean?”

Waver opens his book and flips through it to find his place again. “Don’t worry about it. You answered my question, right? So go back to watching your stupid military shows or whatever.”

“Waver,” Rider says. It’s enough to make Waver freeze.

The silence is suffocating, coiling in his throat and solidifying into a lump there because he doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know if he can say anything at all without crying like the pitiful child he is.

He hears shifting, though he doesn’t look up until the mattress beneath him jumps with Rider’s weight. “I wasn’t finished yet,” Rider continues. “From the moment of your birth, you’re given one thing that will decide whether you’re a man or not.”

As if he hasn’t heard this before. As if it doesn’t make the hollow ache in his chest all the more cavernous. “Is that so.”

Rider leans, one elbow to his knee, and he brings the opposite hand over to tap Waver’s chest. “In here, boy. Your heart is what carries the spirit of manhood, in the end, but only if you can handle that weight.”

Waver can only gawk at Rider. “Wait, what?”

“Did you not hear me? What makes a man is what’s inside. Even one with such a small stature can have the heart of a warrior. And you, Waver Velvet…” He smiles and rests one dwarfing hand on Waver’s skinny shoulder. “You may not be there yet, but you do have what it takes. Not just anyone can ride into battle alongside Iskandar.”

It takes a few moments for that to sink in. _You have what it takes. You’re worthy of even being by his side._

Rider taps the underside of Waver’s jaw with an amused smirk, and only then does Waver realize how long he’d held it open. “Careful, boy. You’ll catch flies.”

Waver inhales deep through his nose and tightens his trembling grip on his book. “Do you mean that?”

“Fool,” Rider scoffs fondly, “I don’t say things I don’t mean, do I?”

Waver shakes his head. “No, I… I guess you don’t.”

“Exactly! At the very least, have some faith in my words,” Rider says.

Any faith in said words is quickly shot down when Rider slaps Waver’s back hard enough to send him tumbling over the edge of the bed.

Waver yelps, both hands reaching behind him to press on the point of contact. “Y-You idiot!” he stammers. “How many times do I have to tell you to be careful with that!”

“Whoops! My apologies,” Rider says, sounding decidedly unapologetic. Still, he bends and gently plucks Waver up by the back of his shirt to deposit him on the bed again. “Ah, we really ought to work on that build of yours though, boy. I worry sometimes that a particularly strong gust of wind might blow you over.”

“Shut up! This isn’t a problem for most people because they don’t have to deal with hulking brutes like you!”

Rider laughs heartily and ruffles Waver’s hair. “You flatter me.”

“It wasn’t a compliment, idiot.” Disgruntled, Waver aggressively smooths his hair back into place. “You can get off my bed now. Any longer on it and you’ll probably break it.”

“You needn’t worry so much,” Rider says, though he complies anyway, rising to head back to his futon.

As he settles back down on the floor, Waver clears his throat. “Hey, Rider.”

Rider turns again. “Hm?”

“Um. Thanks,” he mumbles, color filling his cheeks again. He hastily lifts his book in front his face once more as he adds, “And, um, if you ever have any ideas about helping me become stronger that aren’t completely stupid, I’ll hear them out.”

“Oh?” There’s a note of humor in Rider’s tone now. “Well, I would love to help you any day, but it would be much easier to do so if you allowed us to leave this place more often.”

Waver narrows his eyes over the pages. “Fine. I’ll see if I don’t have any important matters to attend to tomorrow, then.”

Rider pumps his fist, much like a child himself. “That there is more like it! You should’ve been this amenable from the start, boy.”

“I’ve heard plenty of opinions out of you for one night,” Waver says with a dismissive flick of his wrist. “Go back to your show.”

He catches Rider rolling his eyes before he fixes them on the TV again raptly. _Hmph. Mouthy Servant._

Waver’s gaze is less rapt when it returns to skim over the text. His eyes have clouded over with his thoughts and made a blur of the words before him. It doesn’t matter what’s being said on the page right now, because what was said earlier is slowly filling the empty space between his ribs, warming him from the inside out. Making him feel this way is just another of Rider’s mysterious abilities.

That’s why a few minutes pass without progress before Rider suddenly says, “Do you normally make a habit of reading things upside down?”

Waver chucks the book at him.

**Author's Note:**

> a note to any folks who follow my work and are into dr: i still have a lot of stuff for dr planned that i want to finish, i just felt like being highly self-indulgent for a bit. god knows i can't leave dr behind any time soon.
> 
> maybe i'll write more for fate if i get the chance, too! like i said, i love waver and have a lot of thoughts on him.


End file.
